


under neon lights

by mwestbelle



Series: truck stop boys [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Ficlet, M/M, Prompt Fill, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8552086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: The truck stop hooker fic





	

**Author's Note:**

> Transferring some of my tumblr prompt fills onto AO3! This was requested based on [this](http://villainsexuale.tumblr.com/post/83234312416/febricant-im-not-saying-truck-stop-hookers) post.

“I don’t have too many rules,” Steve says. He’s tall, handsome and built like some kind of movie star, not the kind of guy who hangs around lonely parking lots at night. Bucky’s not stupid enough to wonder _why_ anyone does what they do, but if he was going to wonder, it would be about Steve. "I just don’t like bullies.“

"Got it.” Bucky tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans; they’re too tight for him to get his hands in the pockets.

Steve isn’t being shy about giving him a good onceover, but it’s not the kind of lustful eyes Bucky is used to. Steve is sizing him up like one alley cat sizes up another. He’s being evaluated as a threat, not as a fuck. “You do radio work?”

“Some. I mean, I have.” Bucky’s got an old CB sitting in floor in the backseat of his car, in close reach of the sleeping bag spread out over the bench seat. It’s not his primary source of business by far, but he gets enough leads that it’s worth keeping. The guys who pick him up by radio tend to be old-fashioned and a little nostalgic; they give good tips. “You?”

“Not really.” Steve stretches and flexes, his thin tank top riding up over the hard ridges of his abs. It’s not threatening, exactly, but it’s kind of obvious. “I like to deal with people face to face, y'know?”

“I can see why.” Bucky looks over Steve’s shoulder toward the lights of the stop. “Look, if you want me to move along, you can just fucking say so. I’m not looking for trouble. Just want to make some cash.”

“If you don’t make trouble, you won’t find any here,” Steve says. “We like to keep it that way.”

“Yeah.” Bucky rubs his hand over his thigh, fingertips burning a little from the friction of the denim. “Cool. Fine.”

He feels like he’s walking on eggshells until the first time some guy tries to stiff him after a blowjob. He’s about to give up before he gets himself hit when suddenly Steve is there. He talks to the guy, low and calm but fast, and suddenly Bucky has an extra twenty in his hands. Steve gives him this serious nod and then he disappears, and Bucky _gets_ it.

It’s about a month after he gets it that he decides he wants Steve to fuck him. 

“I don’t do that,” Steve says when Bucky brings it up. He has his arms folded across his broad chest, but Bucky gets the feeling that it’s more to protect himself than push anyone away. “That’s not what this is, I don’t…you don’t owe me.”

Bucky laughs and is rewarded by Steve’s shocked face. “Shut the fuck up. I like you, and I want you to fuck me. People still do that, right?”

Steve snorts, and he looks incredibly young for a second. “I wouldn’t know.”

They end up around the corner from the bathrooms. Steve goes to get a packet of lube out of his low-slung jeans, but Bucky just grabs his hand and spits on his fingers. No sense in wasting supplies, not when Bucky hardly needs the care.

He presses forearm against the cinderblock wall and his forehead against his arm while Steve works two thick fingers inside his ass. He’s taken more, but he feels fuller somehow, when it’s Steve.

“Do you have to face that way?” Steve’s voice is low - neither of them want to be overheard, of course, but there’s more to it than that. He’s almost shy, and it’s the last thing Bucky expected from the gorgeous papa bear whore of the lot lizards. “I just–”

“Wanna see my beautiful face?” Bucky chuckles low and wriggles his hips back towards Steve. He can’t remember the last time he got this hard from fingerbanging, but it’s been a long time since he fucked in his free time. “I think you’re kind of tall to make it work the other way.”

“I can hold you.” Steve speaks in a rush, like he has to get all the words out before he changes his mind. He’s almost shy.

“Seriously?” Bucky looks over his shoulder. Steve is flushed, sinful lips wet and parted, but he nods. “I’m pretty solid, man, I’m heavier than I look.”

Steve shrugs and twists his fingers in deep enough to make Bucky gasp. “I’m stronger than I look.”

Bucky flips around obediently, leaning back against the wall instead. He sucks his own fingers in his mouth, reaching down to tease his own hole while he watches Steve roll on the condom. His dick is fucking huge, this flushed red behemoth. Bucky’s mouth is dry from wanting. “If you drop me, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Not gonna drop you.” Steve moves forward, and Bucky isn’t sure how they’re going to do it at first, but then Steve is wrapping his hands under Bucky’s thighs, just under his ass, and then he's _hefting_. He comes in fact to press Bucky to the wall with his body, cock nudging fat and insistent at the cleft of Bucky’s ass. “Gonna, fuck, need a hand, though.”

“You don’t have another one stored somewhere?” Bucky snorts, but he wriggles, reaching down to guide Steve’s dick, lining him up. The first thrust has Bucky gasping at the sheer force of it, Steve’s thickness splitting him open without much more than spit to smooth the way. But Steve is pressing in so close that they’re breathing each other’s breath, panting together. He’s so glad Steve wanted to be face to face.

They’re just two hookers fucking behind the truck stop, but it feels like your first time, like teenage excitement, how fresh it all used to be. He kisses Steve during, sucking and biting on his lips because he wants to leave something behind. A _Kilroy was here_ for the parking lot set. Even if his clients don’t notice, Steve isn’t going to be able to ignore his tender, swollen lips. He isn’t going to be able to forget who gave them to him.

Not that it seems like Steve’s likely to forget. He’s kissing back just as hungrily, leaving dark finger-shaped bruises on Bucky’s thighs with how tight he’s holding him, fucking him with sharp thrusts.

Bucky’s hard like he used to get from riding a motorcycle, hard like the boner you get in the middle of sixth period algebra, hard like maybe he’s a little bit in love with this big gorgeous guy who looks like a frat boy wet dream and acts like your protective big brother. Steve’s abs are totally unyielding, like grinding against cobblestones, but it’s getting him off just fine.

He comes first, unwilling to wait, and because he knows he wants to see the face Steve makes when his body tightens around him, muscles shifting in a way only orgasm causes. Steve’s eyes practically roll back in his head, just like he hoped.

After, when Steve’s tossed the used condom into one of the empty liquor crates because he’s a gentleman, Bucky lights a cigarette and stares up at the stars. “You ever think about getting out of this game?”

“Sometimes,” Steve says. It’s a light answer, but it sounds like a confession.

Bucky takes a drag and exhales, watching the smoke disappear up towards the neon sign advertising DIESEL $3.927. “If you do, take me with you." 

"I will,” Steve says. This one sounds like a promise.


End file.
